J. ROYCE VAN DOREN III INTRODUCTION
meet royce; billionaire, playboy, sometimes responsible coven advisor
GENERAL
FULL NAME: J. Royce Van Doren III NICKNAME(S): known as Royce by the general public, Tripp by family and very close confidants AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 36, 11/04/1987 GENDER: Cisman PRONOUNS: He/Him OCCUPATION: Owner of Art In Motion, Investor, Billionaire Playboy, Coven Advisor SPECIES: Witch ABILITIES: Telepathy, Electrokinesis, Duplication, Omnilingual
BIOGRAPHY
TRIGGERS: Divorce, Death, light mentions of Memory Loss
On a faraway coast, at a luxurious resort, sat a tall and effortlessly handsome man. Wealth and opulence shown from head to toe, a sly fox like grin curling at his lips. Everyone around him buzzed about their lives – some on glamorous vacations such as him, others trying to live their normal rhythmic lives among the new and varied faces week by week. Their minds were loud and delicious, full of the secrets they would never breathe out loud, private as they come. Private that is, except to him. It was that uncanny ability to hear, to know the true nature of someone before their mouths opened through the bold whispers of their mind, that allowed Royce to excel in whatever enterprise he set out to master. Whether here on this shiny coast where the water was more pure than anywhere on this miserable planet, or back home in the sheltered supernatural community he vied to be away from as often as possible, Royce had sworn he would use his every advantage to climb that limitless ladder of success deep into the clouds, so that absolutely no one had the audacity to look down on him. After all, he was born to be something great - He just needed to find that once in a lifetime sliver of something to get him there.
J. Royce Van Doren III was the only child born to the illustrious J. Royce Van Doren II (better known as ‘JR’) and his second wife, Milicent Van Doren. JR didn’t shy from jumping from spouse to spouse, having a long list of parameters a woman needed to meet in order for things to ‘stick’. For his first wife ‘irreconcilable differences’ meant he just didn’t like her personality much, but for Milicent it was a little more out of their hands. Dying during childbirth was hardly a fault of her own, though JR’s parents did mumble how the “weak womb breeds weaker children”. Royce being the only child out of that marriage was soothed if only by the fact he was born a boy – the Van Dorens’ antiquated beliefs that wealth and family prestige should only be passed down from male heir to male heir having remained prominent since they struck it big in the Railroad and Oil during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. For new money now turned old, certain traditions just wouldn’t die even with the generations that passed. JR’s next and (for now) current wife, Blythe Van Doren came so shortly after that Royce would consider her his mother, having raised him in that charming mansion, Verdant Vale Hall, in Celestial Hills alongside the two younger sisters she so graciously ‘gifted’ him several years later. It was okay to have daughters second or third, as there was a brilliant young boy already to shoulder the massive weight of family responsibility.
Royce was always meant to be something grand, that’s what JR would say. For that reason alone, he was offered the finest that could be offered to a young man. JR sent his son off to the best boarding school in Vermont, opting out of the public education Lunar Cove offered, made sure his son had the best tutors and advantages so he could graduate with high honors and get into first-rate higher education facilities. Whip smart, charismatic, and armed with an attractive spot in Oxford University’s Men’s Boat Club, Royce received that desired high quality education and enjoyed a few years across the pond away from his father’s watchful eye, evading his colleagues (more like spies) who were under pressure to make sure the first choices of his early adulthood would align right with JR’s well laid out plans. Again, a Van Doren boy held the brunt of expectation in his family, and in Royce’s case he was expected to follow a carefully curated plan. Do well at school, come back with a lucrative degree, and he would be given access to a seemingly limitless inheritance which would allow him a leg up in whatever career he wanted. Nepotism at its finest. He’d nearly blown it all when he came back from Oxford, a college graduate with an Economics and Management degree and a woman on his arm. A human woman.
While away, Royce undoubtedly worked hard to gain some level of prestige at school, followed every expectation and the carefully laid out plan from his family to the tee. But they never really dictated what he should do in his social life. Sharing living spaces with a few fellow witches trying to make it big (secretly) in a human world, Royce did his best to stick largely to his community where he could find it, to keep his head low and not attract much attention beyond academics and in a rowing shell. But there were just one too many pretty faces at Oxford. In small and inconsequential ways he would take advantage of his natural born gifts to allure and attract the right people – a small spark of his electrokinesis here and there with a well timed, “Looks like there are some sparks between us,” worked miracles on humans who didn’t know that tiny spark was manipulated by him, or the leg up on dates when he could read their mind and surprise them with that worthwhile gift or fancy restaurant they’d been thinking about for days. Tacky to some, but Royce always thought you had to use what you had to get through relationships and life. Sometimes it was as simple as a wager — “If I can guess the exact number on your mind,” then he got whatever he wanted. People thought he was so clever, so lucky, never mind that he could always read what was on their mind. Make your own luck, that’s what his father always told him, and that matched with his other charms somehow got Royce in and out of trouble quicker than one could blink.
In the case of this woman, it was a whole lot more than tricks and self made luck that got him anywhere. Intrigued by her sharp wit and silent grace, he found himself stumbling head over heels for a woman who didn’t belong in his world. One who didn’t fall for any of his silly little tricks and lines, who made Royce work for it. And Royce had never really had to work for anything in his life. It made him want her more – an unattainable something that was always out of reach. She forced him to be honest and vulnerable, more so than he’d been with anyone in his life, and when the veneer and gilded pompous rich boy armor fell away, she got to see parts of Royce he didn’t know he had. Sweet and soft parts, a kind and warm heart hidden beneath the crooked smiles and sarcasm that hid any sort of genuine anything. She found his sensitive side, found the part of him that loved and cared so much for the people in his life he was willing to do whatever he needed to make them happy and be whatever they wanted him to be. Found out he wasn’t as wily or cowardly as he portrayed, that he was deeply intuitive and could be foolishly brave when the moment called for it. He began to even see himself as more than just another vehicle for success in his family – Royce began to see himself as a regular person, began to accept the flaws and unique qualities in himself. He came back from the UK a changed man, a more humble and warm person. And his family hated it. They hated her – a human girl who had no inkling of the supernatural world prior to meeting and developing a relationship with the prodigal son. It took a lot of explaining on his part, but luckily she trusted him enough to let him prove whatever strangeness there was to his ‘all American family and community’ to her once they were safely inside of Lunar Cove and didn’t freak out (at least too much) at the reality of their world. Much like his other ‘strange, irregular’ habits, she took to him being a witch with grace and an open mindedness which could rival any. And he loved her all the more for it.
Now with access to that seemingly endless wealth afforded to him by birth alone, Royce would commit what would be considered the second biggest crime since coming home with a human for a wife. When JR asked Royce what his next big step would be, he shocked his father, and the rest of the living Van Dorens, with news that he would use a portion of his inheritance to purchase the local art museum. His wife, having been an accomplished painter, would need a place to display her works, and Royce decided this would be his exciting first enterprise. To his family, it was like burning money. Sure there was a level of pretentious prestige that could come with owning an art gallery – only the upper crust could afford the overpriced derivative nonsense that came in and out of Art In Motion at times – but it was hardly what they wanted from J. Royce Van Doren III. Not for his first business, anyway. What happened to the plan to merge magic and modern technology to create a never before seen magical tech conglomerate? What happened to actual innovative thought and theory, guiding another Van Doren into the future and cementing their position of wealth and status? No, instead he wanted to own an art gallery to display his wife and other emerging artist’s work, fusing magic and masterpieces into a fully immersive and interactive experience. He hired the best of the best – those with animation as an inherent ability, others with technological manipulation, fae and their illusion magic, whatever ability could be used to create intricate scenarios for guests, and then whoever had the eye and knack for fine art – in order to reinvent the posh art gallery into something more magical. His opening exhibit was “Enter The Mundane”, a magical twist on a human woman’s art portfolio. It was met with mixed reactions, the archaic high brow society not exactly open to it, but ushered in an exciting refreshing look at the art world which attracted a young audience to a gallery opened by the bourgeoisie. It made his family recoil, which Royce found deliciously worth the mixed reception.
For the most part life seemed to continue in a charming haze. The young married Van Dorens enjoyed a surprise success from their interactive art exhibits, and word of futuristic design and technological innovation being used at the small art gallery in Lunar Cove had begun to make its way to other circles. Never one to stay in his boring hometown much, Royce liked to travel, for business and pleasure. The only downside was his wife couldn’t always come along. Not without that pesky issue of memory loss when a human crossed the border. At first she wasn’t quite pleased with being stuck behind, but at least Royce provided an ivory tower as her domestic prison. Verdant Vale Hall wasn’t his yet, but a fancy townhome in Celestial Hills was all his and it made for a nice place to call home. And she did have all the time in the world to create and collaborate with actual magical people for the next fantastical exhibit they could put on, so she kept relatively busy. On the occasion, she would venture with her husband on trips to Vermont, New York City, Massachusetts and wherever his fancy money and Old American Rich Name would take them, but not too far so their soon after return and the influx of magical memories were not too jarring for her. But the trips became fewer in between when they revolved more around business than pleasure.
As fun as the art gallery was, Royce couldn’t be content with dipping his toes into just one pool — he needed more, he needed the prestige that came with more. That’s when the investments happened, when he began gaining more off the backs of others’ successes. The stock game could be tricky, they could be all consuming, and becoming a key player could make someone irritably ugly. Royce could be a fiend, an absolute shark, where money and business were concerned. He’d come back from trips to the big city either elated beyond belief with another notch of success to boast on his fine braided (and designer, naturally) leather belt, or in utter despair and a mercurial mood, weighed down by a business plan gone sour or a poor investment with shoddy return. This was an unattractive Royce, a bitter one whose ambitions and desires seemed unattainable despite all the resources at his disposal. This was the Royce bred by his family to desire power above all else. It always took a lot for him to come back from this, back to the secret dreamer who just wanted to create a cool and expressive place to share art in this small supernatural world. When he could get back to that, back to the shared goals between him and his spouse, only then did things truly seem to go well. Every business decision became a smart one, investing in things that could keep their fortune stable while using funds to grow the gallery and its faculties. Soon he began giving back, back to the community that, for better or worse, raised him and he even offered his limitless resources to the coven he belonged to. Not in some bid to gain any power within — this was charity, a pure gesture at its finest. At least, as pure a gesture as an arrogant rich man could make. It was a decade of wholesome good works and great success and growth.
Then things took a turn for the worst.
Life in Lunar Cove was generally idyllic, made perfect and safe for this secret supernatural community. There really wasn’t much to complain about, or fear, especially for Royce. But it was always when life was at its finest that things seemed to go so incredibly wrong. When the deaths started occurring, and the Council was being picked off one by one, nobody really knew what to think of it. It had been so long since peace was struck in Lunar Cove, where the horrors of their world existed so primarily beyond their borders, that it was hard to grasp it when such atrocities happened within town. Royce could remember so clearly his family’s reaction to the news; the death of their own witch leaders. “A tragic, awful thing,” Blythe would say delicately behind a perfumed handkerchief. “Whatever are we to do now?” JR’s eyes were gleaming with something awfully frightening to Royce, shaken to his core whenever he caught his father’s gaze. It wasn’t until the men were alone to their whiskey, a drink to the great lives lost, that he voiced the thought that lay heavy between them. “You have to step up. You have to put in your name to lead them.”
The Trials were a memory which Royce tried to leave behind, but still laid out fresh. Many young, ambitious witches stepped up to the plate. Most of them wanted it, wanted the coveted title of Supreme more than anything in the world. Royce had practically everything in the world, and this was one of the few things he had no desire to possess. He already had so much responsibility— the last thing he wanted was to be keeper of the Lunar Cove coven. When the ancestors didn’t pick him, his was a face of pure relief, unlike the shameful visages of those that failed alongside him. The only thing that caught him off guard about the whole thing was who was chosen at the end of it. The Reeds were an interesting family all together, and Poppy Reed was barely his junior. He supposed he knew her and her family in the casual way that neighbors involved in a witch coven would — by name and whatever bits of reputation was hushed around. She seemed an odd choice, as his father so angrily declared time and time again at family supper. The implication that his own family seemed so against the ancestors’ choice only made him all the more supportive. So when he was asked to step in as advisor, despite clearly not wanting anything to do with coven leadership, Royce accepted the post with such a sort of blasé indifference, one that hid a deep desire to see what could be done under this new brazen leadership. The beginning of this new chapter was only dampened by one other thing: his human wife, in the midst of all this chaos.
This sort of danger didn’t bode well for the supernatural, but it could be worse for a human woman. One who, at the core of it, had barely anything to do with this world. Before Royce accepted the position of Coven Advisor, his wife wanted to leave town. To go back to England where her family was. “It could be safe there. You don’t know if it’s really all that better staying here.” It was safer there — for her, anyway. It was hardly the place for Royce. The supernatural world was growing smaller and smaller, centering in on Lunar Cove. And he had accepted a position that would keep him there for the long run. This bred a whole new kind of difficulty, long and tumultuous fights that didn’t end well for either party. And the more wounded he was, the further Royce pulled away. He focused more on work, more on the coven, more on his home being threatened. He drew farther and farther away, he almost missed it when she stopped wearing her wedding band. If it wasn’t for that one final fight, the night before a charge for a one way ticket showed up on their shared bank account, then he might have missed her leaving all together. But it happened, and he lived with the whiplash of her swift departure even to this day. It just wasn’t working, and how could it? A human with no ties to this special haven and a witch who signed his soul to it — despite how beautiful the last decade was, they just couldn’t swing it. When she placed his dead mother’s ring in his hand and turned away, Royce felt the sting of unshed tears. But he wouldn’t show it. They made a clean break, a prenup having protected their individual interests. All he still had of her were paintings owned by the gallery which she hadn’t had an interest in keeping anyway, and the memories she promptly lost. Back home in England, she’d remember him as the American cad she lost a decade to. In Lunar Cove, Royce decided to become just that.
In the time since then, Royce has left the art gallery mostly in the hands of employees, filled with almost too much shame and hurt to spend much time inside of it. He’s traveled a lot, whenever he can, for business and most certainly for pleasure. So his first marriage failed, big whoop — his dad married thrice. He’d recover and he acted like he'd done just that. Charming and unapologetically cocky, he migrated from bed to bed as often as he did from country to country, leaving a trail of either heartbreak or vehement anger in his wake. If it weren’t for a duty to his coven, and to the family that expected him to rise to greatness and maintain their status quo, perhaps Royce would have disappeared to a distant coast and lost himself in the ecstasy of foreign lands and secretive thoughts. But he comes back as often as he must, to take his place as an advisor and to flaunt an obscene amount of wealth and an even more ridiculous playboy persona around the small town he scorns and yet cherishes as his one true home. As the threat grows bigger, and seemingly more closer to home, Royce finds himself coming to an enigmatic cross roads — whether to rise to the potential his one great love had seen in him and prepare to stand up and fight when the time calls for it, or to turn tail and run away at the first sign of trouble on Lunar Cove’s horizon. Admittedly he’s teetered towards the latter, and that may just be what his fellow townspeople expect from him, but Royce is learning quickly that he can defy all expectations. And maybe proving them all wrong is exactly what he wants to do.
HEADCANONS
has spent a good majority of his life outside of lunar cove and travels often, usually for “work” but mostly for pleasure
uses his telepathy in every business meeting for an upper edge, and sometimes in his personal life. outside of business, he doesn’t hide the fact he uses this uncanny ability for an edge
was on crew his whole academic career as one of the bow pair/1st seat, and owns a boat which he takes out and spends most of his time on when the weather is right. like all rich white men, he loves a good afternoon playing golf and will be seen around the tennis courts, mostly flirting with the gorgeous country club eligibles
despite owning an art gallery, he can’t draw for shit so don’t expect artistic ability here. he just has an eye for aesthetics and beauty and there’s history there but he ignores that
has never been to echo acres or shadow lake the entire time he’s lived in lunar cove — what do you mean there’s more outside celestial hills, sunny harbor and downtown?
his family owns a mansion ostentatiously named verdant vale hall where his father, stepmother and two half sisters live. royce will inherit it when old dad kicks the bucket, and in the mean time owns his own lovely townhome. that being said, he goes to verdant vale hall often — partially because a garage full of his personally curated and restored vintage european cars is there but also because he promised his step mother to always be there for breakfast and sunday family dinner. he just has to deal with JR too.
re:car garage, royce has a ridiculous number of fancy little european cars he speeds around town in, in every color imaginable, and yes he switches out and often coordinates his ride to his outfits. that aside, he is most seen in his beloved dark green 1964 shelby cobra 289, blue 1970 porsche 911e coupe, or his black 1954 mercedes-benz 300sl. basically if you see a douche speeding around town in a vintage european car it’s probably him.
royce has been divorced for 1.5-2 years now (iffy on the dates currently) but he jumped back into the scene pretty shortly afterwards. that being said, he’s mostly physically available and emotionally detached, so while he may have some recurring favorite bedfellows, he’s incredibly noncommittal
is a proud plant daddy
has a pilot’s license, likes to fly small planes for fun and when he needs to get out of his head and away from people and their heads. also knows he looks hot in a pilot’s leather jacket
the family has a crest featuring a stag, two crossing Laurel branches, and a motto that reads “ex virdi crescunt” (probably butchered but pip doesn’t know latin), and each family member has the crest on some form of jewelry typically worn. for royce his is inlaid onto an emerald green stone set into a gold signet ring he always wears on his right pinky finger, the motto engraved on the inner side of the band. it translates to “from the green we grow” a nod to the van doren reverent belief in the natural order of magic which courses through their blood line
deathly allergic to bees, has an epipen on him always (gansey voice: safe as life)
the only van doren with dark hair; his father, step mother, and half sisters are all blondes. royce inherited his dark locks from his deceased mother, millicent.
did crew competitively his entire high school and collegiate careers (8th seat, “stroke”) but he also participated in: fencing (was the Dunfries School for Boys Fencing Champ 3 years in a row), archery, polo (captain, naturally), and skeet shooting. he’s also a big fan of golfing, tennis / any racquet sport, and auto racing. his sister Kathy is particularly gifted in tennis and did dressage, the latter of which he participated in but never liked,
the Van Dorens have bred and proudly owned Basset Hounds for generations. they currently have two younger hounds: Gatsby who has a proud VD lineage, and Daisy, whom the family acquired within the last year to mate with their handsome boy. they’re hoping for a litter soon. expect more literary named puppies.
I’m sure I’ll add more soon
MISC
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic FAMILY: J. Royce Van Doren II “JR” (father), Blythe Van Doren (stepmother), Cecile Van Doren (half sister), Kathryn Van Doren (half sister), Millicent Van Doren † (biological mother, deceased), 2 Basset Hounds named Gatsby and Daisy HOMETOWN: Lunar Cove, Rhode Island FACE CLAIM: Jonathan Bailey HEIGHT: 5’11” EYE COLOR: Brown HAIR: Brunette DISTINGUISHABLE FEATURES: glasses (yes, they’re prescription), gray streaks at his temples, scar on left brow STYLE: decadent, resplendent, outrageously expensive designer three piece suits, always has on a fancy watch and other ridiculously overpriced stylish accessories, a signet ring on his pinkie featuring the family crest, carries an umbrella or a cane with an ostentatious handle sometimes for added flair, fancy modern glasses, dress shoes and a code of casual elegance at all times unless he’s on a yacht or at the club, in which case it’s polos, chinos/shorts, and loafers all day every day ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: scorpio PINTEREST: (x)
WANTED CONNECTIONS
Hookups
Gallery workers/collaborators
Gallery hopefuls
Country club friends
tbh he needs one very close friend who calls him Tripp and like gets him
hmu we’ll figure it out
